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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29306031">Seven Deadly Sins</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MightyWallJericho/pseuds/MightyWallJericho'>MightyWallJericho</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Interview With the Vampire (1994), Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And a Hug, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Bonding, Bottom Louis de Pointe du Lac, Canon-Typical Violence, Catholic Guilt, Claudia has issues, Claudia loves her new mom, F/M, Lestat being bored, Lestat-typical mood swings, Louis is still whining, M/M, Mates kinda exist, Multi, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Sexism, Period-Typical Underage, Pining, Sire bonds, Temptation, The guilt is astounding, They're just your partners, Top Lestat de Lioncourt, Trust Issues, Vampire Family, Vampire Sex, Vampire Turning, Vampires, Vampires have sex, Widowed, but it's still good, i think..., questioning faith, seriously I just yeeted the canon there, sometimes Louis needs help, talk of god, the dark gift works better, three way relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:02:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,048</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29306031</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MightyWallJericho/pseuds/MightyWallJericho</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Comfort, desire, and longing, all things that tempt a vampire's soul. None more dastardly than the infernal, carnal lust of a vampire. The deadliest sins committed by those immortals who fare, Lillian de Ville knew nothing of this wanton need for release. It's what made her so alluring to her sire, Lestat de Lioncourt. Tempting a young flower in her prime, yet set aside by society for her past.</p><p>There are few ways a story can start and too many ways for them to end...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lestat de Lioncourt/Louis de Pointe du Lac, Lestat de Lioncourt/Louis de Pointe du Lac/Original Female Character, Lestat de Lioncourt/Original Female Character(s), Louis de Pointe du Lac/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Livre Ouvert</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><strong>Out of the fifteen-thousand things I could be doing tonight, burning a hole through my dress would not be one of them.</strong> While the idea sounds thoroughly enjoyable, I would much rather burn the crucifixes' to which Father hung on my fifteenth birthday, the day in which I began young adulthood as a mare rather than a woman, a prize rather than a treasure, and a holy girl rather than one with womanly rites to bodily autonomy.</p><p>Plague stuck nearby, but what would modern aristocracy do other than plight their delights and treat themselves to a party, that of which I was invited yet not invited to. Such a distasteful idea, having me there, but one could not deny Father when he beckoned me as a woman of the Lord. My dress, prim and proper, hung to my feet. Green silken fabric sewn together by our local Seamstress hung off my body awkwardly as I found myself outside yet again, not to disrupt the fun inside. Drunkards disguised under the Lord's name, the lot of them, and virtue outdoors is found in an Educated woman's book addiction, that of which could not destroy the liver or heart.</p><p>As the sweet sunset came I spun my delicate hands over the tender spine of my book. Gulliver's Travels, just as I had requested for my seventeenth birthday. The copy remained old and nearly ruined over the course of seventy years, being a newer edition, but the words remained potent and legible just as a fine new one would be. It's once vibrant color dulled with age, just as all of us do.</p><p>Sun down and demons under the shadows out, I wished for more fulfillment than the copy of my childhood dream. By the fifth week reading it the base on which I desperately sought the book diminished, replaced by confused pondering. When young, I looked for travel, craved something more than New Orleans or the Americas. Born a daughter of wealthy merchant fairs brought but a dead husband and lack of satisfaction only seventeen years into my being. Mother warned against cynicism and worries, considering it a hysteria within itself, but I found nothing more to pass my time.</p><p>Picking a clean bench not borne with disgusting remnants of bile or bird dung, I sat down with my disappointing book. Taking course, Gulliver's Travels opened to a page of which I read a thousand times dead:</p><p>“<em>... a wife should be always a reasonable and agreeable companion, because she cannot always be young.</em>”</p><p>But what of the wife who became forever young? Of a search for a fountain of youth or the memories that lay within the eyes of a morbid painting years past its prime? To those questions my mind could never answer, wrapping around the paradox like a dog chasing its own tail. Hysterics were far from my problem during these parties, mentally taxing philosophical debates could become a new definition for such a disease. Plague or hysteria. Both deadly, both ailments, and I should be disowned for catching either.</p><p>Only thirteen minutes into disaster did the wind whisper its teachings to me. Dressed upon the night were those who came out of the drunk extravaganza wearing tailored suits and fashioned hair to suit the night. Like a viper they would come, trusting the twilight has their care in hand, two cards in the other. One for life, one for an untimely death, for the recent disappearances of slaves raised alarm, even to the wealthiest of folk.</p><p>Bored quickly, I flipped to another page:</p><p>"<em>Based on Gulliver's descriptions of their behaviour, the King describes Europeans as "the most pernicious race of little odious vermin that nature ever suffered to crawl upon the surface of the Earth</em>."</p><p>“Oh, but have you ever met a European, my lady?" My hair flipped back as I was met with his face. Handsome features completed by inhuman blue eyes, with tempting and soft blonde locks trailing to his shoulders like any young man should have them. Tireless, wanting <em>more</em>, egotistical but <em>heavily </em>neglected by how he worded his rhetorical question. His pale face shone, glimmering slightly in the moonlight as he chuckled down at me. <em>Down</em>, higher than me.</p><p>"I am landlocked," I deadpanned, much to his dismay. To mine, he pouted like a young child denied midnight sweets. "The party must be missing a <em>promising young suitor</em>. The night is young, no?"</p><p>His pout strengthened, evolving into a failed viper's grin. "But how could a <em>promising young suitor </em>such as myself go to a party when such a belle jeune femme is here right outside? In the cold, no less, and with but a book for company."</p><p>Attempts such as his were not made in the past, for fear of wrath done onto them by Father, a spitfire at best and the Devil incarnate at worst. Valliant? Perhaps a brazen, bull-headed fool. Prime examples for my exile into the night. A boy dressed in men's clothes. But the more I thought on his persona, the wider his smile, as if lurking on my deepest thoughts. "A woman like myself does best with books and not men as foolish as you."</p><p>"Why, you don't even know my name, sweet fleur," he began triumphantly. "My name is Lestat de Lioncourt, and I wish to show you finer things than Gulliver's Travels."</p><p>"Fine travels, they are, and you try show me a splendid time?" I gasped dramatically before looking back down at the faded cover. "Vast is the world, vast are compliments, and vast are girls looking for simple pleasures you could give. My skirts are closed and I am a woman of Godly temptations and not a whoreling to be swung along to the side at a moment's notice." His smile shrank and I continued, "And before you wish to meet again, my Father has forbade men from my wing of his estate. I shall remain alone."</p><p>A hand traced down my full cheek, graceful and delightfully warm as if recently flushed with blood. Lestat smirked down at me, enamored by my stone face. His smirk cooled into a loving look, one I hadn't felt in a year when I'd been doomed to solitude.</p><p>It was when he said, "If you come back to my friend's estate, I can show you what you've been missing. No sex involved, simply the hole I know you've been missing can be filled. There are other ways of being, and I have chosen you. But I will give you the choice that I didn't have," that I knew he wasn't normal. His eyes shone too bright, nails too glossy, teeth too <em>sharp.</em> A predator in the moonlight unlike any on the fields of humanity. No travels could cross him, no light could touch this man's shining blonde locks.</p><p>Lestat's temptations are not of my variety of sin, and his sin is not my variety of temptation.</p><p>"Three hours you have to explain yourself, and Father shall have your head should I not be in my own bed by dawn."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Mon Dieu</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b>The Holy Grail is neither beautiful nor ugly, in fact, it is often seen as the gateway between Heaven and Hell.</b> I would like to keep it that way, but as much as father insists that the Holy Grail can be found in wealth and prosperity I believe that it is in fact quite the opposite. There's nothing more ugly than a wealthy man looking for a good woman to spend his days bedding and breeding. Unfortunately I've had the great displeasure of knowing many of these men, none of whom are up to par.</p>
<p>On this night I was met with a man almost inhuman. By grace of God or Satan himself, Lestat came to me. His reasoning for my reckoning is unknown, but as his hair shines through the night the best I can do is wonder how he handles himself with such great decadence.</p>
<p>By all glory I should believe this man to be my downfall, to have my soul be damned for all eternity in the great pits of all hell. But as it seems, I have been graced with such a presence of undying arrogance. To folly three hours over to a man who has no distinct interest in anything other then my peculiarity may perhaps be the greatest, most idiotic decision I've ever made, but it does not change the fact that it is the only decision I've ever made without the glory and grace of my father.</p>
<p>The sweet scent of the moon and the stench of Lestat and his unknowing sense of brilliance in times of getting me into his friend's home sets the scene well.</p>
<p>Of this man, I knew his name was Louis. Lestat did not stop speaking of him, even when I pleaded with him to shut his gaping mouth. When I did such, it seemed to fill him with such excitement that I thought he would soil himself. Neglected, obviously. Whether it was as a child or in his later adult life remained unknown, but I know for a fact that this man has not got enough attention at least since the onset of puberty. No popular young man would have such a flurry when talking to a young woman, especially one as young as myself.</p>
<p>No insult deterred Lestat de Lioncourt, negative words only filling his prescribed arrogance. Egotism to such an extent I've never seen in my seventeen years of life. Once I would have thought my father held such egotism, but even the old, rotting young man he used to be couldn't hold such an idiocy.</p>
<p>No, Lestat knows what he's doing. He would never have taken a young woman such as myself, who has riches Beyond longing desires, if you did not hold some semblance of heightened intelligence. Perhaps he is actually a genius disguising himself as a moronic buffoon, the world may never know.</p>
<p>Then again, it's intelligence that he refuses to use to continue educated conversations that do not include Louis de Pointe du Lac. Whoever this man is has a mighty fine reputation to live up to, as Lestat thinks of him quite as I would think of the Lord.</p>
<p>Beyond these tedious conversations our walk back to his friend's estate was not all that unpleasant. Lestat's ability to keep a conversation going Beyond its lifetime is admirable, albeit annoying at times. I should keep note of that.</p>
<p>"Lestat I -"</p>
<p>And then there was a man with luscious brown hair that trailed nearly down to his back. He was just as pale and his eyes were just as luminescent as his friend's, although his were more of an emerald green than a diamond blue, that of which's color was held by his friend.</p>
<p>On the back of his hand was a large patch of blood, which Lestat quickly took notice to and scowled over.</p>
<p>"Oh, Louis, you can't even feed yourself without a mess!" He fussed over his friend as if he were his wife. "Mon Dieu, whatever shall I do with you? How could you survive without me, Louis? How did you survive before me?"</p>
<p>A sense of embarrassment ran into the room as Louis coughed a bit. His temperament seemed the opposite of Lestat, who fussed and fussed about before finally looking back over at me, the woman he brought home to non-sexually show something.</p>
<p>"Why, yes, we have a guest, Louis. She is not here for dinner." His friend gave a great look of confusion before looking off into the distance like he'd caught eye of something. Lestat tutted softly and patted his friend's back before glancing over at me. "Why, this should be discussed in private."</p>
<p>"Good things often are." Lestat smiled before taking my arm and winking at Louis, who still had a befuddled look on his face as his friend led me off somewhere else.</p>
<p>Willing myself into a small side room, Lestat took this chance to let out a deep chuckle. It wasn't quite enough of a murderer's glimmer for me to scream, take off, or freeze in place, but the twinge of horror that laced his voice sent my mind into defensive mode. This blonde's laughter whenever a thought crossed my mind was eerie to say the least, and quite honestly I thought he was a bit senile for a young man. Lestat couldn't be over twenty, but his friend, that of whom I'd seen once before while in town a few years back, must have been in his mid to late twenties. Both are abnormally gorgeous, handsome young men in their prime. I almost felt jealous, with them able to be free. I am trapped, but they have liberty.</p>
<p>Vast are the ways I could be uncomfortable right now. However I am always in a state of discomfort, life becoming stale without the company of fiction or food. Lestat's mid-length locks bounced with every move and when he stopped he pulled them back slightly, out of his face. It wasn't a normal movement, too fast for a man of his nature. My eyebrows furrowed at the deduction. Lack of humanity shouldn't be on my mind.</p>
<p>As his eyes grazed back to mine, his smirk returned.</p>
<p>"Your <em>mind</em>," Lestat started with a twinge of extravagance I wasn't used to. When he continued I caught a glimpse of predatorial teeth, "Is wonderful. Such cynicism from a woman so young and belle. Thoughts of what more you could be. You are the life of the party." I frowned, making him raise his eyebrows. "Since I have little of your time I should get on with it. I am a creature of darkness, bound into night and <em>doomed </em>by eternity. We are not much different from one another, although while you look to solitude I have found comfort in people." He finally stepped towards me, too fast to be a human's footing. "Your choice is between eternal <em>life </em>and humanity."</p>
<p>After many years of men and all that come with them, I'd never imagined someone quite like the man in front of me. Egotism, what I assume to be a level of narcissism, and now delusions of immortality. Oh, he could get away with it, dashing smile and all, but I'm a woman of knowledge and science, not to be fooled by simple circus tricks and fake implanted teeth.</p>
<p>Life. What do I know of it? Only seventeen years behind my belt and all that's come is sadness and longing. Behind every corner is the terrible reality that I am mortal, and I must grapple with that fact as I take my corset off and lay down each night. Because what am I but the simple truth that I am a mere woman in the world so cold and dark.</p>
<p>Lestat can offer nothing but simple pleasures, all of which I've experienced before with a single man that I came to know as my late husband. How I miss him so, his warm hands running down my spine as we tuck ourselves into the night, having put our sweet baby girl to sleep minutes prior. Nights with him were calm, not disrupted by any late night parties. Neither of us were fond of those, rather enjoying reading to each other over drinking and fine dancing.</p>
<p>In this wide room a sweet scent could be felt running over the objects and people inside. Alone with the blonde man I could feel the power he held as it brushed against me. Unaffecting, but he pressed against me in a way I'd never be able to understand. Almost as if he were trying to understand me, to put himself inside my mind to find out exactly how my clock ticks.</p>
<p>"My mind has little value in this day and age," I dismissed, "and who would look for a woman to keep them in intellectual company? If it's my thoughts you wish to hear, I apologize for my airheadedness."</p>
<p>How often I've had to apologize for things such as this. An offended man means danger, and I am a safe woman who lives for her Father and Mother, both of which would thrust me from the roof if they found out I reflected poorly. No matter how idiotic a man, you must finance their whims with respect and false care. A widow must keep to herself as society moves on. To find a man willing to speak with a barren woman is rare, and to find her alluring is distasteful.</p>
<p>"You are not <em>airheaded.</em>" He sounded offended at the idea. "I would never pick a woman to give the dark gift who lacks intelligence." Lestat scoffed once more before his feet moved quicker than my eyes could register. His hand met my chin as he pulled my face up to see him. "How you could fit in, be great in your youthful glow, an afterlight to failed successes. Mon Dieu, how you are a flame to the night."</p>
<p>Lestat does not know of a God, only himself. How foolish are my visions of him praying in church. He believes in <em>himself</em>, the one he could never fear. I scoffed at the notion but remained forced to look him in the eye. Those oceanic blue eyes littered with cold, glossy highlights. Fixated on me, he spoke again, "Graceful you are in your mind. Always busy with thought. But you are saddened by a loss, grieving through time. I wish to fix your broken heart as the dark gift has helped start to heal mine."</p>
<p>Dark gift. What kind of gift does he wish to give? A ridiculous phrase for carnal pleasures? Devilish sin is what it sounds like.</p>
<p>"A choice, you say, for this dark gift?" No matter how sinful it sounds, my curiosity peaked. After years of my Father's preaching about the devil and how he lays waste, I have found that talk of darkness and the gifts it enhances to be a fascinating subject. "Such a thing to give to a woman you've just met, or has stalking been a way to heal your heart during your lonesome."</p>
<p>The man tutted. "You seem to have a disdain for me but a curiosity unlike any other," he commented. A single finger graced against my cheek as his mouth opened up. There he revealed pearly white <em>fangs</em>, that of which reminded me of a wolf or even a cat. My heart began to race as he snarled, pressing me into the wall with unimaginable strength. "You are lucky that I want you so badly, mon tendre, or I would have drained you until the point of death already. The choice I could give gone forever, buried in tender blood and gore. How luxueuse your blood must taste, sweet one."</p>
<p>I gasped as his nail dug into the corner of my neck. Blood seeped from the new wound, dragging down to my chest. Lestat smirked, leaning in to... <em>taste</em> the red liquid.</p>
<p>"My, my, I was right," he chuckled. "I always am."</p>
<p>"Get -" I groaned as teeth pierced my flesh. A sharp wave of pleasure ran down my spine at the act. I felt sinful, unholy in every way. His teeth were like the Devil's claws clamping down on my innocent neck. This wasn't something I was supposed to enjoy, but my body betrayed me, becoming limp as Lestat suckled my neck like a baby on a breast.</p>
<p>Everything came to light then. Flashes of memories and thoughts, feelings and desires, flowed into my through fangs. Freeing and almost euphoric, as the blood left me I knew I was dying. Not painful, but a sweet death of which I could sink into, allow to take over and consume me in the same way Lestat did. I craved more of this death, to join my lost loved ones. If it killed me then, I wouldn't care.</p>
<p>Never before had I thought about my own death, only the loss of my loved ones. A grandfather taken by the plague, sister by childbirth... but the worst had been my husband and my sweet babe in that carriage last year. I would never get to see them again, I thought, but now, as I laid dying, I thought of them. Could I see them yet again, or was I to be doomed by fate to live while they died?</p>
<p>Before a scream could come out he pushed me away, allowing me to fall to the floor. "Now is your chance to make the choice, sweet girl. Become my fledgling and hold the dark gift in your soul or join <em>him</em> in death."</p>
<p><em>Him</em> could mean so many different men that I didn't try to figure it all out. As Lestat picked me up and laid me on a couch I <em>knew.</em> Suddenly I could no longer feel him, our thoughts separate and his mind away from my own. His grace and elegance did not pour into me, but blood now seeped through to the couch of which I laid.</p>
<p>A hand pondered upon my cheek as my eyes, lidded and brimming with tears, nearly failed in staying open.</p>
<p>"Doux ange..." He whispered, kissing my cooling cheek. "You have bestowed upon me three hours and I shall bestow eternity upon you if you gave me the command. Will you join me in my darkness and become a carrier of the night? Or I can give you morbid death, allow that release."</p>
<p>Pale fingers now warm and comforting rubbed against me. With those slender limbs he held me fully, knitting me back together after fully breaking my body apart. Tenderness is not in his nature, I know that now, but he warped himself for me, giving me what I needed rather than what he wanted. I knew that look of desperation, had worn it myself many times. Longing, <em>desire,</em> but perhaps not of the sexual nature. He wants a bond unlike any other, but I cannot put words to what I do not know. He fills me with emotional fire while draining my body of warmth. Give and take, push and pull, but I find myself feeling shoved.</p>
<p>"...<em>Why</em>?" The question made me feel useless. <em>Why</em>? Out of all things to ask a man with insatiable greed for sinning. Why does the killer kill? Why does the old man beat his wife? Why do we do <em>anything</em>?</p>
<p>"I have met many women, men, and children, none of whom interested me," he begins his admittance with a haughty tone. "But people are most interesting, just caught up in their own lives. You, however, have no life, and that is utterly <em>fascinating.</em>" I don't believe he meant it as insulting, but his tone said otherwise. "As of late I have to deal with Louis -" <em>Here he goes again,</em> "- who was wasting his life drinking to the loss of his family. His wallowing in self-pity is do downtrodden and I hate to hear his whining all day. You are different from he. You hate your life but do not throw it away, make use and respect that there is no place for you anywhere."</p>
<p>I would not wallow and I will not stand for such... <em>psychoanalysis</em>! Alas I could not speak, words unable to come out as my head fuzzed up, only focused on keeping me awake amidst Lestat's dangerous aura.</p>
<p>"My patience has left me," he announced. "Two choices, sweet one, do make it fast."</p>
<p>Choice. Choice. <em>Choices. </em>Two of them to be exact, and yet it became a choice between life and death by nature that would become my undoing. <em>Back in three hours.</em> But it couldn't happen while I'm in this state, broken and dying. How could I cover up my blood loss? He would kill me, that's how, and while death sounds splendid I fear what is on the other side. After so many months of begging God for death it finally came in the form of a dark man with shiny blonde hair and fangs willing to take me into immortality. I let the Devil kiss my neck and offer me his hand.</p>
<p>There was a deep chuckle in between that choice, one that I attribute to my answer.</p>
<p>"Yes."</p>
<p>I shook the Devil's hand.</p>
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